A New York Lawyer in the Court of Pericles

by David Schenck

  He waved his hand at me “Clothed you in my fine clothes! As Isodemos will have told you, I am something of a trader in cloth. Nowhere else in the city do the slaves wear such fine clothing!”

  He leaned forward a bit on his couch, closer to me and spoke lower, almost conspiratorially. “I would like very much to find the source of your cloth and for you to assist me in trading with your people. Can you do that for me? Hum? After all I’ve done for you?”

  He slapped my knee again with the back of his hand, “Who is a better friend to you than Megakreon?”

  He leaned back relaxing, his soliloquy finished and looked at me expectantly

  I thought for a moment how to begin. At last, I said, “Thank you Megakreon.” Swallowing my revulsion at thanking a man who a bought me as a slave and was now proud of his good deed. “Your people have indeed cared for me and I am grateful for your help in my moment of need. I am anxious to help you in return. I should point out that I am not a slave and the men who sold me to you were not my owners.”

  An angry look crossed his face “You are a stranger, entering the city illegally. A smuggler or thief, it makes no difference. There were no strange ships in the port that day. I know! I’m Megakreon! It’s my business to know! I bought you fairly!” He again leaned in “I own you.” He growled.

  Then leaning back and smiling wide “But you were saying how you wished to help me! Please go on!”

  I was a bit shaken, not really surprised that he wouldn’t just give in and let me go free, but startled by his menace.

  “Um, right, as I was saying. I’m more than happy to help you acquire as much cloth as you wish. As it happens, I was traveling with friends when I got separated from them and arrived here in the city by accident.” Best to stick as close to the truth as possible.

  “I don’t really know how I ended up here. I’m no smuggler or thief. But, as it happens my friends are cloth merchants.” So much for the truth.

  “I expect that they will be searching for me.” It was POSSIBLE.

  “And, of course, when they find me, I’ll tell them of your kindness and recommend they trade exclusively with you.”

  He had closed his eyes while I was talking. Now he opened them

  “And how long do you think they will be, your friends? How could you have been separated from them and they not know where to look? You weren’t shipwrecked or thrown overboard. Your clothing didn’t have enough salt stain.” He thumped himself on his chest “Megakreon, knows cloth!”

  “I don’t know how long they will be.” Leaving the truth far behind. “We had a tight schedule and important business in the east. They wouldn’t have been able to stop and search.” I added a touch I thought he would appreciate, “Business first! But they will certainly come looking for me on their return.”

  “But on their return,” he said, “they will have sold all the cloth. Leaving nothing for Megakreon!”

  “True,” I said, “but where we come from there is much cloth. They will return with as much as you want. And,” here was my key selling point “nobody except you will have it!”

  He looked like he was considering the idea, like he was already imagining himself the only seller of Armani suits in ancient Athens!

  After a moment, he looked back at me. “Bring me your clothing. The strange sandals too.”

  As I got to my feet, he added “And the blue object that Isodemos says makes light. I want to see that too.”

  I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. But I felt betrayed, not that I had told Isodemos to keep it a secret, but I guess I hadn’t expected him to tell Megakreon every detail of our time together.

  I went out into the courtyard and up the stairs and get my clothes and my cell and returned to Megakreon.

  He was drinking deeply when I entered, Koré must have brought him a cup of wine while I was gone.

  I showed him my clothing. He stood up and took the suit and shirt and examined the fabric with the air of an expert.

  Then placing the suit on his couch he took my shoes. He examined them, clearly surprised by the quality of the leather. He smelled them and even chewed a bit of the tongue.

  “What kind of leather is this? How do they make the stiches so even and tight?”

  I started to say that I really didn’t know, but he waved me to silence. He was talking to himself.

  Finally he placed the shoes down too and held out his hand. “And the blue light thing? Where is it?”

  I passed him my cell.

  He took it in his hand and looked at it with true wonder. Turned it over and over. Admired his reflection in the glass. Marveled at the rich, slightly translucent color of the plastic. He poked the buttons and stroked everything.

  Finally after examining every inch he asked, “Isodemos says it makes light and music. How?”

  “Unfortunately,” I began, I’d rehearsed how to deal with this demand, “it obtains its power from being in my homeland. Once separated from my country, it slowly loses its power until none remain. Only on returning to my homeland will it be able to make light and music again.”

  Megakreon looked disappointed. Then after a second “No matter, it’s still a marvel! Tell me, your friends, they could also trade with me for these, how do you call it?”

  “It’s called a cell, and yes my friends could also trade with you for these.”

  “A kell, hum? Well, I’d certainly be interested in the trade.”

  “When they return I’ll tell them and we’ll make a trade.”

  He looked at me with what I think was regret, then said, “Unfortunately, I don’t think your friends will be coming back. At least not anytime soon. Isodemos tells me you are from across the western ocean. Far away and I believe it!” he gestures to my things. “I know trading with your people could make me rich, maybe richer than even my dreams, but Megakreon is also a pragmatic man and knows when to take a smaller profit rather than risk all for a dream.

  “I’ve already sold you to Cleon.” He said, matter-of-factly. “I got a good price for you. More than I paid, now that you are healthy. And I’ll keep this cloth, find a good buyer and of course your knell.”

  “Cell” I corrected numbly. Sold?

  “Yes, Megakreon will come out of this all right.” He looked lost in thought for a moment, I think counting his profit.

  “You’re keeping my cell and my clothes?”

  “They aren’t yours.” He replied with little interest. “A slave owns nothing. Besides,” He said jovially, “I’m trading you these fine clothes!”

  He waved me out with his hand “Tros will return in a few days, when he leaves again you’ll go with him and he’ll deliver you to Cleon’s farm. Isodemos tells me you are a poor worker. Well, Cleon’s men will soon have you trained up right! In the meantime, relax, eat my food, and drink my wine, read my scrolls! Isodemos tells me you can read! It’s a pity your Greek isn’t better, I could have found you a much better spot, and at a higher price! Oh well, can’t waste the day wishing things were different!”

  He waved me out again. And I left.

  Sold! To Cleon! I don’t know why I was so upset. But I wanted at that moment to stay in Megakreon’s household more than anything. Not that it was so nice, but I had gotten used to it. As used as you can get to bad food, worse wine, terrible smells, chamber pots, filth and threats. Still, they had demanded no actual work and I’d grown fond of Isodemos, Koré and, the child, Philon.

  Tros had told me that the work on the farm was hard and the overseers like to enforce discipline with beatings. I’d never been in a fight in my life, never been beaten by my parents or anyone, never broken a bone. In short, I’d never suffered any kind of serious physical pain and I wasn’t eager to start.

  But I was an old man, by their standards, surely they wouldn’t expect much actual physical labor (something else I’d had little experience with) and surely they wouldn’t actually beat me. In my short time here, I’d heard about beatings, but I hadn’t actually seen o
ne. Maybe it was just some sort vague threat that never actually happened.

  I knew that couldn’t be completely true. Isodemos’ fear had been real. If no one ever was actually whipped the fear would eventually dissipate. Still, it might be rare. I hoped. I’d have to ask Tros when he returned.

  At least I was going to a farm where Tros had worked. He would know people and could maybe give me some inside information. Plus his wife and daughter were still there, if I remembered correctly. That should be something.

  Like desperate people everywhere, I clung to what hope I could find.

  Chapter 7

  The resources of the Earth, although they may seem limitless, are in fact, limited. Don’t waste them! Don’t pollute any more than necessary and always look for ways to do more with less waste!

  Book of Questionable Facts – 588

  So, I waited for Tros. As Megakreon suggested, I ate his food and drank his wine and read his scrolls. He didn’t have many, but I still wasn’t reading very fast and the history of the Persian war was long.

  I also, continued to have language classes when Isodemos had time. He apologized for telling Megakreon that he doubted my friends would return. I told him not to worry. Megakreon probably would have arrived at the same conclusion himself. Still, I remembered – No friends among slaves.

  Then one day Tros was in the courtyard waiting when I woke up. I went down to talk to him. He seemed happy to see me.

  “My new traveling companion!” he greeted me.

  “So it seems.” I replied, “At least for a little while.”

  “Don’t be sad! It’s not so bad. The work is hard, but so is life. I’m just waiting for Megakreon to check these samples of oil, then we’ll take the jars to his warehouse and we’ll be on the road!”

  “So soon?” I asked.

  “Yes, no reason to delay! We’ll make a circuit of farms. I have two or three to visit on the way to Cleon’s. So we’ll be on the road probably 3-4 days before I can see my wife and daughter!”

  Suddenly his good mood made sense. Of course for him this was a trip to see his family, while I was going into agricultural slavery. Everything depends on your point of view…

  “If you have anything to pack, get it ready.”

  I held my arms out to my sides and spun around. “I’m all packed. We can leave when you are ready.”

  Just then Megakreon joined us. “Robé! This is goodbye! I just want to remind you that if your friends ever do return, nobody will give them better trading terms than Megakreon!” Then he leaned close to me, “And there would be something extra in it for you too. Come Tros, show me the samples.”

  And they walked off together. I said my goodbyes to Koré and Isodemos and Philon and waited, reading and worrying.

  Soon, we were on our way. After the warehouse, we headed out the city gates and into the countryside. The city was surrounded by farms and country estates.

  We had with us a small cart and a bad tempered donkey. She would spit and bite and stop at any small patch of grass or greenery to eat. Tros told me that her name was Malthake (sweetheart) after she tried to bite me for the first time.

  I’m not normally much of an animal person, but I found myself feeling sympathy for my fellow slave and I wouldn’t let Tros beat her when she stopped.

  We all three walked, because if anyone tried to ride in the cart the donkey would slow to a crawl.

  “It’s funny, because I can load the cart with jars of oil that weigh much more than you and I both and she’ll walk all day without much complaint. She just doesn’t like to be the only one working.”

  It was blazingly hot and the road (really just a rutted dirt path) was dusty. After a very short time, I was sweating and filthy and dying of thirst. Luckily, I’m a city boy and I’m used to long hot walks or I never would have made it past the first 10 minutes.

  We walked mostly in silence, occasionally stopping for a drink of wine and a bite of bread. I remember in modern Athens seeing an exhibit on the history of wine in Greece. It went on and on about the suitability of the climate for grape growing and the ancient fame of Greek wines, but the stuff we drank was terrible. Sour or salty or just plain bad. It got you drunk if you drank a lot, but it was mixed with water so it did take a lot. It was barely drinkable – except it was pretty much the only thing to drink.

  During one stop, I tried to make friends with Malthake. I ran my hand over her head and down her mane, she tried to bite me at first but eventually we seemed to arrive at a certain détente. As I was stroking the course hair of her mane, I had an idea.

  “Give me your knife.”

  Tros looked at me skeptically, but he handed me the little knife he wore on his belt. It was DULL! There is nothing like a sharp knife here! I wanted to cut a few of the hairs from Malthake’s mane. I grabbed a small clump and started sawing away. Malthake, predictably, didn’t like it, but Tros held her head and after a surprising amount work, I had a handful of tough donkey mane.

  “Hold her just a bit more, I need a few from her tail.”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He held her while I cut a few long hairs from her tail (from the side, she would have kicked me dead for sure if I had been behind her).

  “Ok, now I need a small branch.” I found one on a nearby tree that seemed good and cut it with Tros’ dull knife. Then, with a few cuts and trims and some bending and tying I had a makeshift TOOTHBRUSH!

  I held up my prize to Tros, expecting admiration, but he simply look confused “What is it?”

  “It’s for cleaning your teeth.”

  I took the water skin and sloshed a little water on the brush and, without thinking about the irony of trying to clean my teeth with hair fresh from a donkey, started to brush my teeth. The bristles were too long. And for the rest of the day as we walked I fiddled with the brush until I was more or less satisfied.

  When night approached we stopped at a small farm house. An old man in the field greeted Tros and motioned us inside. Tros told me that he stayed here often on his travels and usually brought them some oil or barley flour on his return trips and sometimes helped them with the farm. Tros tied the donkey to a tree alongside a patch of grass and weeds.

  Inside the house an old woman was preparing dinner. She gave Tros a small hug and me a wary look, but she seemed friendly enough after a while.

  The old man came in and with the four of us the house was a little crowded. They were clearly poor farmers. The house had just one room and the floor was dirt. But there was a small fire at one end of the room and some kind of soup or stew was cooking and it smelt pretty good.

  Tros introduced me and told them I was a stranger from across the Western Ocean and new slave of Cleon’s and he was delivering me to the farm.

  They invited us to eat. There was no table or chairs so the couple sat on their small bed and I sat on the floor while Tros took a small 3-legged stool. The soup was good. It had fresh vegetables and some barley and a little salt and there were pieces of a hard brown bread. It was, by far, the best meal I had eaten since the seafood restaurant in Megara.

  After eating, Tros asked me to tell them about my home land. At first I was unsure about what to say, but then I remembered that everyone here believed all sorts of strange things, so soon I was spinning stories about cities 100 time the size of Athens with buildings that scraped the sky, carts that moved without donkeys (Tros and I both took a moment to appreciate the joy of that) and devices that let you talk to anyone anytime no matter the distance.

  I’m not sure how much they actually believed, but they seemed to enjoy the stories and talking about home helped me too.

  I asked for a bit of water in a cup and took myself outside to brush my teeth. They all followed and observed my odd ritual with the kind of curiosity reserved for only the truly insane. Nonetheless, I felt 1000% better with something approaching clean teeth.

  Afterwards, we lay down to sleep. The couple in th
eir bed and Tros and I on the floor with thin blankets (rags really) that the old couple had offered us.

  Thankfully the night was warm, so I used my blanket as a mattress and another blanket (rag really) that Tros had in the cart as a pillow and lay down to sleep as best I could. I very quickly missed the terrible bed in Megakreon’s house. I tossed and turned looking for the least uncomfortable spot without success. Every spot was more uncomfortable than every other spot (impossible but true). But I was so worn out from the long day of walking that I finally slept.

  The morning came all too soon. Pain flooded my body. My legs were killing me from all the walking and my entire body hurt from sleeping on the hard dirt floor. I lay quiet for a moment seeing if I could just will myself to die, but without success.

  Soon, everybody else in the house was up and about and Tros was kicking my shoulder. I got up reluctantly. There was a light breakfast, more hard bread (which was not as good without the soup) and some fresh figs and we were on our way.

  As we untied Malthake and started on our way, the old woman ran out of the house and pressed a half a loaf of fresher bread into my hands.

  I thanked her and she turned back to the house.

  Tros gave me a look “She must like you! She never gives me food for the road!”

  We walked for a couple of hours until Tros told me we were almost to the first farm.

  “This is the farm of Nicias. He is a General and very rich”.

  “I thought Pericles was the General.”

  “Pericles is a General, but so is Nicias. There are 10 generals chosen each year.”

  “Ok”.

  “Anyway, when we reach the farm, just stay out of the way and keep quiet. Nicias is a hard master and his overseers are too. Be glad you are going to the farm of Cleon and not here.

  “I’ll check on the olive crop, look at some of the stored oil, try to find some way to make a little extra money and, if we’re lucky they’ll invite us to stay for the night.”